“O, you need not be.”
“He is old-fashioned and strict in some of his notions, but he has a splendid heart.”
“I believe that.”
“O, Miss Endicott, please look back at this sunset! It is still more glorious than the one we saw the evening of our ride! Do you know, I hate to return. Everything is so lovely here.”
Some of the wide fields lay in the shade, some in the bronze light of the dying sun. All the tree-tops were burnished, and now it was so still that not a leaf stirred. A distant Whip-poor-will began his melancholy lay.
“Oh, we must hurry on;” said Fanny recollecting herself. “The others have passed the curve of the road and are out of sight.”
They quickened their pace a trifle. Presently he inquired—
“What is to be done to-morrow?”
“Why—nothing.”
“No tea parties nor croquet?”